The Cinematography of Sean Price Williams: An Exercise in Grit, Fluidity, and Realism

By Colin Kerekes, Edited by Bridget Zhang

Sean Price Williams began his career shooting for low-budget, unadorned independent films with skeleton crews. These features tended to follow a smaller cast, feature narratives grounded in realism, and contain dialogue-heavy performances emblematic of the mumblecore movement of the 2000s. According to Maria San Filippo, professor of visual and media studies at Emerson College, films of this movement had a “minimalist aesthetic” and “unpolished idiom” that resisted traditional “Hollywood” models - these models being engendered by classic story structures and big budgets (Filippo 2011). These terms are easily applicable to Williams’ imperfect visual style emphasizing a mobile camera and naturalistic environments. Film critic Richard Brody describes Williams as a “cinematographer for many of the best and most significant independent films of the past decade, fiction and documentary” (Folden 2024). In fact, Williams’ personal style is inspired by many prominent documentary filmmakers, such as Albert Maysles, who is known for helping pioneer cinéma vérité (Williams 2023). Even though he mainly works in fiction, films shot by Williams feel as though the viewer is stumbling upon real people undergoing real situations. Therefore, I will be conducting an analysis on three films he has served as DP on which explore overlapping themes of anxiety and the search for personal freedom, to investigate William’s technique of extreme realism. This includes Yeast (2008), Heaven Knows What (2014), and his directorial debut The Sweet East (2023). In each of these works, Sean Price Williams harnesses fluid camera movement reminiscent of art cinema of the 1960s and 1970s in conjunction with heavy zoom effects, naturally sourced lighting, and imperfect exposure. In doing so, he offers an intimate perspective into characters’ psychological dispositions while portraying tension and conflict with a sense of urgency. Williams illustrates a portrait of real life for the viewer, free of glorification and rough around the edges as reality tends to be. 

Cinéma vérité, the style most reminiscent of Williams’ work, is historically utilized in documentary filmmaking. John Hassard, professor of organizational analysis at the University of Manchester explains that on the surface, cinéma vérité can be defined as filmmaking concerned with capturing the truth (Hassard 1998). He cites film scholar Roy Armes, who describes that within cinéma vérité, “an interesting visual style and striking beautiful effects are rejected as a hindrance to the portrayal of the vital truth” (Armes 1966). In other words, pictorial beauty is exchanged for complete realism. Mary Bronstein’s Yeast is the ideal example of cinema at its rawest. Being Williams’ second time as director of photography on a full-length feature film, Yeast follows Rachel (Mary Bronstein), an emotionally unintelligent, perpetually disturbed young woman who is thrust into conflict with her unmotivated roommate Alice (Amy Judd), and her obnoxious, childish friend Gen (Greta Gerwig). The dynamic between each of these unlikeable individuals spirals into biting hatred, physical violence, and cyclical bickering, constructing an experience colored by discomfort and frustration. 

This sense of uncomfortable tension is captured through the viewpoint of a MiniDV camcorder. Through this, it is immediately clear that Williams is not interested in depicting images through a sharp, vivid lens. Instead, scenes are often drenched in grain, blurred, and cloudy. The true artistic prowess emerges from the emotive movement the camcorder offers. Williams tends to shoot handheld, granting him the freedom to follow character actions fluidly and shift easily for the benefit of narrative development. Simultaneously, the motion of the camera can feel clunky, but not at the disservice of the plot. In fact, oftentimes clunky camera movement is deliberate in heightening anxiety and allowing the story to feel cemented in the real world. For instance, a key incident within the film revolves around Gen and Rachel going on a deeply strained camping trip together. As the pair grow tired of each other, the two walk through the forest side by side. Rachel complains incessantly, whether it be about Gen’s lack of planning or the spoiled weather. Eventually, Gen’s annoyance reaches a climax as she hits Rachel across the head before placing her in a chokehold. There is an incredible sense of intimacy associated with Williams’ mobile cinematography as the camera first follows the pair quite freely throughout the scene, mimicking the experience of actually walking with the two. That intimacy is exploited and turned to unease when the camera begins to shake aggressively at the beckon of Gen’s physical aggression. The viewer still feels invested in the scene through means of immersion, however this immersion now serves to make the viewer feel as trapped and overwhelmed as Rachel feels. Though it can appear low-effort, Williams’ distinct camerawork grants the spectator a portal to the world of the film, leaving no room to escape. The aesthetic of invisibility is lost, and instead the viewer is made aware of the camera and meant to connect with it, feeling as though they are eavesdropping upon Rachel’s bitter interactions with her distanced friends. 

Williams’ portrayal of emotion and toxicity is further manifested through the use of close-ups. When Rachel is not outwardly verbalizing her emotions, the viewer is made to infer upon her irritation as the camera looks inwards. Before the camping trip, Rachel and Gen dine at a Burger King. As the two sit at a booth of a closed diner, Rachel condescendingly questions the validity of Gen’s job. Gen is vexed and steps away from her seat, leaving Rachel alone at the booth. The camera then zooms closely on Rachel as she appears perturbed. Her face fills the screen before the camera pans to her hands as she crumbles a Burger King bag with her fist. Though this perspective is mobile, our view is still tightly locked onto Rachel’s actions and feelings. She says little, making every slight variation in expression more notable. Through near proximity, the viewer acknowledges that Rachel is a victim of her own mind who internalizes interactions while hiding behind the facade that she is not the initiator of the friction within her life. No cinematographic choice better elucidates this than the ending shot, where Rachel reaches the realization that Alice no longer needs her nor desires to associate with her. Credits roll over a frozen close-up of Rachel in a dark parking lot, looking off to the side with a certain impotent callousness. This stillness serves as a deliberate contrast to Williams’ constantly moving camera, emphasizing that Rachel’s dissatisfaction will persist for as long as she refuses to recognize her own faults. Essentially, these close, detailed shots force the viewer to see these characters as they truly are. Close often becomes too close, and that is exactly the point. Williams puts the ugly and personal on display. 

Six years following Yeast, Williams collaborated with the Safdie Brothers on Heaven Knows What, a film depicting Harley (Arielle Holmes), a woman living in New York City, as she meanders through a brutal life with an addiction to heroin and a mentally disturbed boyfriend named Ilya (Caleb Landry Jones). Though the film had a slightly higher budget, Williams’ cinematographic tendencies set forth in Yeast still apply, including fluid camera movement and ample close-ups. However, there is a clear maturation in technique on display in Williams’ camerawork which consciously alienates Harley in an environment that cares little for her wellbeing. Williams shot Heaven Knows What on a Sony F3, substituting a home-video aesthetic for a more realized look into the dark underbelly of New York City. Interestingly, desolation is not characterized by low-lighting. Instead, Williams relies on high exposure to render the reality of a bleak, unforgiving city in the dead of winter. Harley weaves through sidewalks and across streets amidst a landscape of dead trees and harsh light. This overexposed light creates a sort of haze that washes over the image. As seen through Yeast, dynamic and unblemished picture quality is not a priority. What is seen on screen is in many ways a reflection of the protagonists’ respective mental states. In Harley’s case, she spends most of the film high, tired, or troubled. Therefore, the washed out light expresses the mental fog she experiences. 

Williams experiments with different types of shots as well, including a panning shot across the cityscapes of New York. This sequence, like the majority of the film, is overexposed. The white, cloudy sky dominates over gray skyscrapers to craft a vision of the city that forgoes beautification. After all, a hallmark of Williams’ cinematography involves portraying spaces and characters as they are - vulnerable, imperfect, and even ugly at times. Harley’s existence is unglamorous, so the camera displays it as such. His experimentation extends to an increased usage of the zoom feature. As Harley sits on a busy sidewalk pleading for money, the viewer sees her from afar. Slowly and choppily, the camera zooms inwards onto her as she is obscured by passing pedestrians. The image becomes flattened. As dimension is lost, the viewer is reminded of Harley’s desperation as the weight of the world crushes in on her narratively and visually. Per usual, Williams still employs his classic handheld style for similar functions seen in Yeast. The opening scene of the film features Harley cutting her wrist with a razor blade in an attempt to appease Ilya. As the razor blade digs into her skin, the camera shakes energetically in panic, cutting rapidly between close images of Harley’s pained expression and blood pouring from her wound. The alarming scene is shot with immediacy. The camera is unflinching and as a result, suspense is overflowing. Though what is shown on screen is not always clear, the camera is not meant to be an objective perspective. It rather acts as a representation of Harley’s frenzied state in the wake of a self-destructive choice. It may not depict the entire reality of the situation, but it does depict the reality of Harley’s hysteria. 

Interestingly, Williams does decide to incorporate small amounts of unnatural lighting at the expense of realism. When Harley injects a heroin needle into her arm, a stylized neon light colored with purple and pink hues pervades the screen, washing over her face as she gives into drug-induced euphoria. In some ways, the resulting image is beautiful. It is expressive of the joyful relief Harley must feel when taking drugs. However, the light is also sourced from the room of a cramped apartment that Harley is barely able to call home. It is a reminder that the difficulties she faces are only bound to fester as the heroin rushes through her veins. Therefore, even when Williams foregoes natural lighting, he does so to authentically convey the unsavory truths of the matter. 

The Sweet East marks Williams’ first time directing, and 32nd feature film as director of photography. It is perhaps one of his more fantastical works, centered on a young student named Lillian (Talia Ryder) who embarks on a surrealist journey across the American east coast, placing herself in increasingly strange and unrelated situations which include the basement of a punk political anarchist, a secret neo-nazi rally, an obnoxious independent film set, and more. Here, shot on an Aaton XTR Prod, Williams utilizes all the tricks in his tool box, incorporating shaky camera movement, quick pans, close-ups, zooms, etc. Yet, Williams’ cinematography on The Sweet East differentiates itself from his prior productions, namely because there is a greater reliance on aesthetic beauty and visual variation. Despite this, conventions typical of cinéma vérité still apply. The film opens with a montage of Lillian on a high school field trip to Washington D.C., where Williams uses handheld that is characteristic of the rest of his work. As the camera swings around a school bus, bobs up and down as Lillian jadedly saunters beside the U.S. Capitol, and zooms in on her glued to the screen of an iPhone, the viewer watches these events unfold like a documentary. It is an honest portrayal of modern American youth through the eyes of Williams. Throughout the sequence, Lillian's boredom is palpable amidst the visual chaos of her high school class. While the cinematography overwhelms, the viewer sympathizes with her desire to slip away. Williams’ purpose here is, as is the usual case, to bring the viewer closer to his protagonists’ desires, needs, and issues. 

The film takes a jarring shift into the bizarre when Lillian sings a Wonderland-esque melody to a mirror, acknowledging the camera directly, before leaping into a metaphorical rabbit hole. In an interview conducted at Film Fest Gent in Belgium, Williams explained that he wanted distinct “changes [in camera motion] when Lillian is with the different characters she meets” (Williams 2023). This is evident when Lillian stumbles upon a neo-nazi rally in the middle of a field, where she meets far-right professor Lawrence (Simon Rex). Williams delineates that in scenes with the professor, he put the camera “on a tripod” (Williams 2023). A still camera, though not entirely absent, is generally uncharacteristic of Williams’ work. However, its usage in The Sweet East functions to underscore Lillian’s personal relationship with security and spontaneity. She wanders through life apathetically, though this apathy allows her a sense of flexibility. She welcomes whatever comes her way, even if it happens to be a near-romantic relationship with a neo-nazi professor twice her age. She seeks refuge in his home, and for a short while, begins to feel secure in this dynamic. That is until she gets bored and decides to flee with a duffel bag full of his money. As she hastily races away, the camera transitions to handheld and a sense of chaos is instilled. This dichotomy between stillness and mobility signalizes her agency. Lillian takes initiative in any situation she wanders into. Even if she feels comfortable for a moment, her restlessness tends to build, leaving her to pursue the next absurd encounter.

Though Williams has become more exploratory in his recent works, at the core of his cinematography is the preoccupation with depicting the truth of the characters being filmed. The imperfect camera united with uneven lighting become vehicles for the messy nature of life. Williams is concerned with accentuating a reality that is not sugar coated. Even if it is not the direct reality the viewer is accustomed to, it is the personal realities of the characters we get to know all too well.

Works Cited

Folden, Matt. “Sean Price Williams’s 1000 Movies - Journal.” Metrograph, 18 Mar. 2024, metrograph.com/sean-price-williamss-1000-movies/#:~:text=The%20New%20Yorker%2 0film%20critic,and%20 Nathan%20Silver%27s%20Thirst%20Street. 

Filippo, Aria San. "A cinema of recession: micro-budgeting, micro-drama, and the 'mumblecore' movement." CineAction, no. 85, winter 2011, pp. 2+. Gale Literature Resource Center, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A269691785/LitRC?u=anon~b365da7a&sid=googleScholar&xid =b3cf6fb1. Accessed 19 Apr. 2024. 

Hassard, John, and Ruth Holliday. Organization/Representation: Work and Organizations in Popular Culture. SAGE, 1997. 

Williams, Sean Price. “Sean Price Williams on ‘The Sweet East’: ‘The Script Was Written to Make Us Laugh.’” FILM TALK, 13 Mar. 2024, filmtalk.org/2024/03/13/sean-price-williams/.

The Different Approaches to the Angry-Man Genre: Juxtaposing the Long-Term Legacies of Sholay and Zanjeer

By Krisha Sikka, Edited by Bridget Zhang and Enoch Lai

Introduction 

1970s Bollywood reflects the transition from an optimistic, post-Independence atmosphere to one depicting a lack of trust in the government after the appointment of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Spearheading a mass sterilization campaign, her regime was linked to the censorship of free speech and neglected lower classes in society by denying them basic civil liberties (Raghavan). Movies like Zanjeer (1973) and Sholay (1975)—directed by Prakash Mehra and Ramesh Sippy respectively—established the angry young man genre, which features enraged heroes seeking revenge for injustices committed against them through their own means, rather than relying on law enforcement. Zanjeer revolves around a young man avenging the death of his parents through partnership with a crook, while Sholay focuses on two thieves avenging the death of a local police officer’s family by hunting down a treacherous bandit. Although the two films have different storylines, they are both centered on a lack of trust in the government due to the political climate in India during the 70’s. 

Despite both being of the same, revolutionary genre, Sholay was able to differentiate itself from Zanjeer and become the highest grossing Indian film for almost a decade due to its ability to appeal to public opinion by incorporating ideals that aligned with the current political climate, as well as its innovative use of advanced foreign technology. More specifically, Sholay’s increased success over Zanjeer can be attributed to 1) its realistic depiction of life after the issuance of the Emergency—a period from 1975 to 1977 in India in which Gandhi’s administration tightened their control through mass arrests and censorship; 2) its pioneering role as the first “curry western” influenced by narrative styles and technology from Hollywood; and 3) the portrayal of an antagonist whose sadistic violence mirrored the oppressive actions of the government.

The 1970s and the Emergency: A New Era of Bollywood Cinema 

When Prime Minister Indira Gandhi took power, she wanted to prevent civil disobedience against the corrupt government and, thus, issued the Emergency on June 25, 1975. Under this order, Article 359 and the Parliamentary Proceedings (Protection of the Publication) Act prohibited reporters from discussing or distributing any of the discussions occurring in the government, and protections for free speech were abolished (Jha 120). Authoritarianism reached an unprecedented level and was largely a response to the mass protests that called for Gandhi to step down. Various opposing leaders who spoke out against her were incarcerated, which created a general sense of fear in India regarding speaking out against her injustices (Caravan Magazine).  

Zanjeer uses storylines that represent a fantasy, pre-Emergency world. This resembles movies from Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s administration, where social classes get along and women embody ideal Indian womanhood. For example, the main character, Vijay (Amitabh Bachchan), is able to avenge the death of his parents by killing Teja (Ajit Khan), their murderer, without facing consequences. He does so with the help of Sher Khan (Pran), a former crook; earlier in the movie, Vijay is able to make him change his ways because Khan is impressed by his down-to-earth character and determination. Furthermore, he has a successful love story with Mala (Jaya Bhaduri), a homeless knife-sharpener that he nurtures into an obedient wife with the help of his adopted brother and sister-in-law. Vijay is able to end up happily-ever-after with a woman that successfully depicts Indian womanhood—exemplified by women who are dedicated to serving their husbands and managing the household—even though she is from another class. 

On the other hand, Sholay depicts the reality of life after the Emergency. The antagonist Gabbar (Amjad Khan) is a ruthless criminal who makes a living off of theft and cuts off the arms of a local police officer, Thakur (Sanjeev Kumar), as revenge for arresting him. The famous line, “Yeh haath mujhe dede Thakur [Give me this hand, Thakur], '' remains timeless and depicts the vulnerability of law enforcement, who Indira Gandhi intended to be at the top of the social ladder but yet did not have as much power as various bandits and criminals. Jai (Amitabh Bachchan) and Veeru (Dharmendra) are two thieves that Thakur enlists to capture Gabbar in exchange for money but later realize that they themselves are encouraged by justice, rather than monetary value. In Bollywood’s India: A Public Fantasy, Priya Joshi states, “In the new world of the Emergency, these two are as good as the police'' (Joshi 47). Thus,  Jai and Veeru represent an era in which people of the lower class were utilized by those of higher classes, in this case Thakur, in the name of morality. 

Although the successful mixing of the classes is shown in Zanjeer, in Sholay, Jai ends up losing his life, shedding light on the death of pre-Emergency ideals. He wants to marry Radha (Jaya Bachchan), the widow of Thakur’s son, but eventually realizes it was wrong for him to think that he would be accepted by someone belonging to a higher class. Furthermore, Veeru is not able to avenge Jai’s death by killing Gabbar himself because he is subject to Thakur’s authority. Compared to Mala in Zanjeer, Veeru’s love interest Basanti is not tamed to become the perfect wife; she continues to own a horse-carriage transport system to sustain herself, while Mala gives up her knife-sharpener business. In the iconic song Jab Tak Hai Jaan Jaane Jahan [As Long as I am Alive], Basanti is told by Gabbar that he will not kill Veeru if she keeps dancing, even after he throws broken glass on her feet. For the first time in Bollywood cinema, a woman is dancing to save the hero, rather than needing to be saved herself. 

With Zanjeer being released prior to the Emergency and Sholay being released after, the latter film went down as more symbolic of that time period, with the censoring of the ending depicting an abuse of power from the law. Originally, Thakur was supposed to murder Gabbar by pummeling him with his feet. However, since the Emergency was instated, the Central Board of Film Censors did not approve of the original ending and the violence, forcing director Ramesh Sippy to cut out some of the gore. Thus, law enforcement arrests Gabbar for his crimes instead, reinforcing that the police are still more powerful than the people in terms of carrying out justice (Chopra 150-151). Even though Zanjeer had the same message as the uncensored Sholay ending, as Vijay kills Teja instead of the police doing so, it was not censored and was able to depict vigilantism without the police being involved because it was released pre-Emergency. With a few of the non-censored copies slipping its way into the general audience, Sholay’s issues during distribution shed light on the unfair oppression and censoring that occurred during the Emergency, making it a historical artifact. It reflected a period in which the government could control almost every facet of life, specifically film and creativity in this sense, and thus exemplified the effects of the Emergency. 

Foreign Influence: The Making of the First “Curry Western” 

With a movie intended to be the first “curry western”, director Ramesh Sippy and the entire crew for Sholay utilized foreign features and techniques, such as 70 mm print, stereophonic sound, and meticulously choreographed action scenes. Sippy wanted to depict the movie’s big vision through utilizing a 70 mm film print for the first time in Bollywood cinema, shooting each shot in 35 mm and enlarging it to the 70 mm size in post-production. On the other hand, he found that the action stunt coordinators were not at his desired level; he turned to foreign technicians instead. Foreigners from London who specialized in film production, such as Jim Allen, Gerry Crampton, and John Gant, were able to introduce innovative techniques, such as how to realistically time the jumps and incorporate boxes to protect the actors from falls. For example, the attack on Ramgarh scene incorporated numerous fake gunshots and individuals being caught in the staged fire, which took the team over two weeks to shoot (Chopra 37-38). 

Another innovative concept in Sholay’s production that helped set it apart from the rest of Bollywood was the opening train ambush to show the first on-screen interaction of Jai, Veeru, and Thakur. It also sets the stage again for how this movie is like a Hollywood western by showing how the thieves defended Thakur, rather than leaving him to fend for himself against the numerous attackers. However, the crew ran into an issue; it was not legal to have two trains running on the track simultaneously, but they could not stop the originally scheduled train from running. They came to an agreement with the railway company, paying a fee everyday and providing a langar, or free meal, to not only the officials but also the local farmers influenced by the production (Chopra 38). The langar not only allowed for Sholay to successfully complete its shooting of this scene but also helped rally individuals of different social classes together to watch the production.

To match the incredible visuals, the team chose to use stereophonic sound. However, no studios in India were suited to handle such a mix, so they instead utilized London’s Twickenham Studio. Although most of the sound effects were generated in Mumbai and taken to London, they

decided that they wanted to switch up action sounds and the typical “dishoom-dishoom” sounds of gunfire, generating them abroad (Chopra 40). These new techniques gave Sholay a sense of novelty that had never been seen in previous films, including Zanjeer, and also led the way for new themes and settings to be expressed.

Although Sholay and Zanjeer both fall under the angry young-man genre, the adoption of the “inclusion of the outsider into the community” and the “iconicity of a barren landscape” from a Hollywood western set apart Sholay as the first “curry western” (Mukherjee 1). The Hollywood western can be defined as centering around conflict between “civilized order and the lawless frontier.” The hero is also commonly torn between two worlds, one which is disorderly and one centered around morality (Bordwell and Thompson 339). Jai and Veeeru were accepted as honorable in Ramgarh because of their dedication to bringing Thakur justice; although they could have just stolen the money he had given to them, they took the moral route. Bound by codes of honor, Jai and Veeru do not kill Gabbar, as Thakur wanted to do so himself; on the other hand, the opposite is depicted in Zanjeer, where Vijay is drawn by his own personal motivation. He is already somebody in law enforcement and joins the lawless frontier to achieve justice. Furthermore, Sholay’s setting, being the first dacoit, or criminal, movie shot in the South in Ramanagaram and requiring the construction of an entire village, mirrored the wilderness setting that is often portrayed in Hollywood westerns (Chopra 42). On the other hand, Zanjeer has many grand set pieces, such as Teja’s fancy party and mansion. Thus, Zanjeer’s“urban setting,” which was often featured in many other films of this period stood in stark contrast to Sholay’s “wilderness” setting, which was instead similar to the Hollywood western.

Sholay set the wave for a new subsection of the angry-young man genre, the “curry western,” which highlights the struggles of ostracized classes. Upon its release, it initially received backlash for not including the familiar themes of the Golden Fifties, such as patriotism, social welfare, and overall prosperity; for example, it emphasized the friendship between Jai and Veeru more than the romantic relationship between Jai and Radha (Kalia 140). It broke away from the escapism that other movies provided, but was popular because people wanted to see more of what they were experiencing in reality on the big screen.

Gabbar: An Unprecedented, Sadistic Villain 

Perhaps the most important factor that helped set apart Sholay from Zanjeer and make the audience truly resonate with the movie was the villain Gabbar, who represented someone that was forgotten in India and was able to inflict violence that mirrored what many lower-class individuals were facing in real life from the government. When picking the villain for the film, Salim-Javed, a popular screenwriter duo during this time period in Bollywood who wrote both Zanjeer and Sholay, knew that they needed someone who stood out from the cliché villains of that era, even one that stood apart from Teja in their creation Zanjeer, and was not restrained by the law. They cast Amjad Khan, whose peculiar but recognizable voice “sounded like a child with a bad cough” (Chopra 138); To make him look like the bandit Gabbar, they blackened his teeth, dressed him in army gear, and splotched dirt across his body (Joshi 53-57). When Gabbar kills a villager for simply being from where Thakur resided, it is parallel to innocent people in India being thrown off their land simply for urbanism. While Indira Gandhi aimed to provide poor people with housing, they were often placed in areas that were underdeveloped and thus left them unable to make a living for themselves (Dhume). On the other hand, Teja in Zanjeer was not nearly as evil or sadistic, being the leader of the oil mafia and having acquired wealth. His glasses and fancy attire depicted his elevated status in society and did not resonate as well with the people, not inflicting nearly the same level of pain on people of the lower-class. 

Gabbar went down as the more memorable villain in comparison to Teja, with his actions shining light on the terrible acts that the government committed against people. People were able to remember Sholay more when thinking about how brutal a character could be, with Gabbar’s inflicted bloodshed permanently smeared across the brains of every viewer. While Sholay is purely fictional, this bloodshed can be compared to the turmoil that Indians experienced during the Emergency. For example, according to Caravan Magazine, Indira Gandhi issued “a large-scale demolition of slums,” which led many lower-class individuals to wander the streets of Delhi looking for a place to reside (Caravan Magazine). Although Gabbar himself was a villain, he and the two thieves were all influenced by poverty and living in a low infrastructure area in Delhi; the key difference between them was morality. Due to his popularity and distinctiveness, he was even featured in popular advertisements, such as for Parle-G biscuits, which added to the continued longevity of his character (Chopra 175-176). 

However, it was not only the media that adopted Gabbar’s dialogue and presence but even common people that had come across the movie and also resonated with the character. For example, there was an instance when Amjad Khan entered a small shop in Gujarat, and his voice echoed as he spoke into the microphone “Kitne aadmi the (How many men were there)?” (Chopra 177). His influence was all over India and reached multiple groups of people, something that Teja from Zanjeer was unfortunately never able to achieve. Thus, Sholay’s viewers still bring up Gabbar and his iconic dialogues and actions, which have contributed to his long-lasting legacy for the past 40 years. Gabbar himself became a trademark character for the film, as viewers had never seen not only unique mannerisms but also a figure who inflicted unprecedented violence on the Bollywood screen. He represented an ability for the screenwriters to no longer play it safe when depicting evil but unleash the full potential of a villain. 

Conclusion 

When watching Sholay, the audience was taken aback by its bold commentary on the failures of law enforcement, which resulted in a mix of positive and negative reviews from individuals. However, after finishing the film, many people came back to the theaters to witness this masterpiece—a pioneer of foreign influence and the “angry young man” genre—again and found that they themselves could relate to Thakur’s struggles, causing the film to achieve tremendous success. Sholay’s usage of foreign technology to create new sounds and visuals in the angry young man genre made the film a huge success and set it apart from Zanjeer by not just sticking to previously used techniques. Therefore, Sholay represented the start of a new era by its politically subversive response to the circumstances of the Emergency and the birth of the “curry western.” The film not only introduced characters who took up vigilantism and did not glorify the government but also included romance and friendship as key themes to serve side-by-side with action and justice, influencing future films to also mix these themes together and challenge political authority. 

Works Cited

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Chopra, Anupama. “Sholay: The Making of a Classic.” Penguin Books, 2000.

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Prakash, Gyan. Emergency Chronicles: Indira Gandhi and Democracy’s Turning Point. Princeton University Press, 2019. 

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Rajamani, Imke. "Pictures, Emotions, Conceptual Change: Anger in Popular Hindi Cinema." Contributions to the History of Concepts, vol. 7, no. 2, 2012, pp. 52-77.

Sholay. Directed by Ramesh Sippy, performances by Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bachchan, Dharmendra, and Hema Malini, Sippy Films, 1975.

Zanjeer. Directed by Prakash Mehra, performances by Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bachchan, Prakash Mehra Productions, 1973.